


The Dinner Party

by Mertens



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, Gen, Poor Unhappy Erik, and really can you blame them, no, no one believes erik, no you cannot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-30 19:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17834621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertens/pseuds/Mertens
Summary: Erik’s friend Nadir remains skeptical about the existence of Christine, and there’s a slight chance that Christine is not entirely convinced that Erik even has a friend. Erik decides to have Nadir come to dinner so that the matter can be finally be settled.





	1. Chapter 1

"The tea is very good, Daroga, but of course it's not quite as good as the tea my wife makes for us," Erik's yellow eyes held that same sparkle they did every time he mentioned his 'wife'.

Nadir stifled a sigh. The man had been finding every excuse to bring up this supposed 'wife' all afternoon, and finally Nadir could ignore it no longer. 

_'I look very different from the last time you saw me, don't I, Daroga? I've gained weight, you see-' here he patted his still bony figure. 'It's because my wife insists I eat every single day, the silly girl!'_

_'It's such a sunny day out, it hurts my eyes terribly, but my wife loves this kind of weather, so I've found myself becoming rather fond of it as well.'_

_'Oh, are those roses in that vase over there? Roses are my wife's favorite.'_

"Where is your wife, Erik?" he asked, the words coming out a little sharper than he intended, but this question had been lingering all afternoon. "I would have expected her to join us for tea today, yet she has not."

There was a moment of silence in which Nadir half feared Erik was about to point to an empty chair and insist that his wife was _right there, you great booby!_ \- but luckily he found his old friend's mind was not that far gone... _yet_. Instead Erik gazed off into the distance, a faraway look in his eye, before answering. 

"She is- she fell and hurt herself today, she didn't feel up to the trip here because of it," Erik still gazed at the wall, unseeing, a frown passing over his hidden face but still visible in his voice. 

He delicately maneuvered the teacup under the piece of silk hanging over the bottom half of his face so he could take a sip while still maintaining his dignity. 

"Oh? She fell, then?" 

"Yes, that's what Erik said," annoyance colored his voice. 

"She just happened to trip and fall on the one day I invited you both to tea? I see," Nadir said dryly. 

"What the devil are you implying, Daroga?" he snapped. 

Nadir shrugged. 

"Nothing, old friend. Nothing at all."

Yet still Erik gasped and set the teacup down on the table, offended. 

"The Daroga does not believe Erik!" he accused, indignant. "He does not believe Erik has a wife who loves him!"

"Now Erik, I didn't say that, not exactly-" 

"The Daroga did not need to say it - Erik _knows_ what was in his mind," he practically seethed with offense. 

For all his show of anger and scorn, Nadir still noted with amusement that he made no move to storm off or leave. Clearly not - who else would he have to talk to about his 'wife'? Nadir tried to hide his smirk. 

"No, no," he tried to placate him. "It's not like that all, Erik. Please, tell me more about, er, Kirsten."

" _Christine_ ," he glared at him. 

"Yes, that's it. Tell me about her."

Erik straightened in his chair, pushing his shoulders back and swelling with pride. 

"We have been married nearly six months now. She is an angel, Daroga, a true angel! I told you this in my last letter to you, surely you remember. But oh, it cannot be said enough!" he sighed happily. "She loves Erik for himself, she agreed to marry him of her own free will!" 

He paused turn away and wipe at a tear in his eye. 

"And she most definitely exists!" he turned back and spat the words with such vehemence that Nadir leaned away from him just a little. 

"I am certain she does!" he found himself agreeing, but he still had his doubts. 

Such a girl surely couldn't exist, could she? Erik was almost certainly making the whole thing up - perhaps he really had snapped after all. But still a small part of Nadir couldn't help but worry - what if there _was_ a girl? What if Erik was holding a girl against her will and claiming she loved him? He shuddered at the thought. The poor thing. What if he had forced her to marry him somehow? He was torn between humoring his friend and attempting to goad him into admitting the truth of the situation. 

"What- what else is she like?"

"She is everything that's good in this world," he said dreamily. "Hair like sunbeams and a voice like a nightingale, she is so kind and good to Erik. She likes books and flowers and music and- and Erik! She _loves_ Erik."

Nadir nodded. 

"I'm sure she does. Perhaps I could meet her one day..."

Erik's soft, dreamy mood lifted and was replaced by one of suspicion. 

"What does Daroga want to meet Erik's wife for?" he asked flatly. 

"Why wouldn't I want to meet my friend's wife?" he replied evenly, stirring his tea. 

Erik narrowed his eyes at him. 

"Perhaps Daroga doesn't think he _can_ meet Erik's wife," he said ominously. 

"I'm sure I can, Erik... If she isn't ill... or hasn’t gotten hurt again... and as long as she isn't busy..."

"Why are you like this, Daroga?" Erik begged and wrung his hands. "Why do you think Erik doesn't have a wife? Is it so hard to believe that Erik could have a wife like any other man?"

Nadir sighed. This man and his mood swings. 

"I'm sure you could, Erik, it's just- well, are you.... _quite_ certain?"

"She's real!" he beat his hands against the armrests of the chair. "She's a real, living wife! She loves me, too! She does, she does!"

"Alright, Erik, alright! Christine loves you, I agree."

Hearing the words from someone else seemed to calm him. 

"How is your new home in the country? Do you live there still?" he attempted to change the subject. 

"Yes, Erik lives in the country now," he paused dramatically. " _With his wife_."

"You told me about it in your last letter, but I haven't been up to see it yet. That was terribly rude of me," Nadir offered. 

"It was," Erik looked away. 

"Would you like me to come over to dinner one day? I'd love to see your new home, it sounds delightful."

"And- and my wife?" he asked hopefully. 

"Yes, of course! I'll see her too. We can all have dinner together."

Erik nodded. 

"Just let us know the date, Daroga, and we shall arrange it.”


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was setting when Erik finally arrived home. The beautiful white house was surrounded by gardens of flowers tended to by him and his wife, and the sight of them made his eyes water with pride. Tucked away in the country, hidden from the knowledge of most people, the home was ideal for the two of them. 

He unhitched the horse from the carriage and tended to the beast, making sure it was comfortable in its stable before heading inside to the house. 

"Wife!" he called out as he locked the door behind him. "I am home!"

Christine came out to meet him, a beaming smile on her face. 

"Erik! And just where have you been all afternoon? Did you get a lot of errands done?"

She reached for his hat and cape. 

He hesitantly let her take them both and place them in the closet, torn between letting her attend to him like any other man would let his wife do or simply doing it himself so as to lessen the amount of work Christine had to do. 

"How is your ankle, my dear?" he asked anxiously, ignoring her own questions. "I am surprised to see you up and about. Are you feeling quite alright?" 

"I'm feeling much better, love, thank you for asking. I just got up a little while ago, I think all of the rest this afternoon truly helped."

Erik watched her closely as she walked to the closet to stow the cape and hat. She still had a minor limp, and it annoyed him to no end that she hadn't stayed in bed for longer - how dare she risk her safety like that? Didn't she know how precious she was to him, how he wouldn't be able to go on without her? He would never forgive himself if any harm, no matter how minor, came to her while she was under his care. 

He recalled with a shudder the events of that morning, hearing her little scream and running out to the front yard to see her sprawled across the ground - oh, he nearly died right then and there! But she had pulled herself up to a sitting position and explained that while watering the flowers she had merely tripped over a rock that was unexpectedly hiding in the grass, so he had scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside to her bed, tending to her sprained ankle and weeping over the little scratches and cuts that peppered her hands from where she tried to break her fall. 

That rock. He narrowed his eyes, just thinking about it again. After seeing to Christine's comfort he had returned to the front yard and searched until he had found it, storing it away in his work room where he intended to pulverize it with a hammer for its sin of harming Christine. 

If he could, he would keep her sealed away in her room, safe from treacherous rocks, from leering eyes, from anything and everything that might seek to do her ill, but he knows how much she loves her freedom and he could never trap her here like that. 

He did, however, insist that she stay in bed until he returned so as to not stress her poor ankle any further. He had heaved a deep sigh after he told her that, mournfully saying that now she would not be able to go with him and meet his friend for tea. 

"This is the first you've mentioned it, Erik," she had said curiously. 

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he had nodded sadly. "But you simply cannot go now, Christine, the carriage ride would jostle your ankle far too much and you must stay and rest."

Christine had thought over his words the entire day. Erik's friend. Her lips quirked every time the idea came to her. A friend. How utterly _normal_ or Erik to have a friend. It did make one wonder, as he had often in the past made firm comments to the effect of "Erik has no friends" - which always drew a _look_ from her, at which point he would realize what he had just said and gasp, falling at her feet and begging forgiveness because _of course_ Erik had a friend, he had Christine and how on earth could he have forgotten her sweet, blessed friendship that Erik did not deserve? - but still it remained that she herself was likely the only person she could imagine falling into that category. 

Erik knew people, of course he did. But knowing people did not automatically make them friends. How on earth would a friendship even form between him and someone else? 

It was quite possible, she supposed, that somewhere in his long life he had acquired a friend of sorts, but she had to admit it was awfully strange that this 'friend' be brought up now - it was only the night before that Christine had talking about throwing a Christmas party in a few months, and she was making a list of friends she would like to invite. Erik had listened to the list grow longer and longer and he had fidgeted nervously as it did, until finally he had mentioned quite meekly, "You have quite a lot of friends, my dear," - at which point he had become quite and reserved as though he were thinking over a matter of great importance. She had felt a little stab guilt - surely he had never had the opportunity to make so many friends, and surely that must pain him. But certainly at the party he would see that _her_ friends could become _his_ friends as well - and if they didn't treat her husband with all the kindness he deserved, well, they wouldn't be her friends for very much longer, either. 

And it certainly was suspicious to her that it was only mentioned at a time when she was not able to go - only being told of it just after being told that she must stay put all day. Very odd, she mused. 

She had finally come to the conclusion that while he might possibly have had a friend at some point in time, that it was far more likely he was merely saying it to save face, as it were. He wanted to feel like everyone else, to feel normal, and that wasn't such a crime, was it? No, she would let him say whatever he wished if it made him feel better, and she would go along with it. 

"Christine, you are limping," he admonished, following her to the closet. 

"But it doesn't pain me very much, and it is so boring to stay in bed all day, you know," she turned to face him. 

She could tell he was about to start fussing over her, perhaps even carry her back to her room - that simply wouldn't do. She drew closer to him, slowly and carefully reaching a hand towards the flowing silk of his mask. He froze, cringing back just slightly as she lifted the silk. He knew what she was doing, yet even still he couldn't help the instinctual urge to pull back and run. She smiled encouragingly at him before standing on her tip toes to press a kiss to those thin, terrible lips before letting the silk drop back down and hide his face once more. He breathed a contented sigh and his shoulders relaxed. It still made her heart twist so to see him react with such anxiety whenever she reached for his face. One day, she swore to herself, one day he will become so used to being kissed that his first thought won't be to run away anymore. She would make certain of it. 

"Enough about me, though. How did your errands go?" she asked. 

"They went very well," he nodded. "But Erik didn't just run errands today, Christine - he also had he tea with his friend."

Her lips quirked. 

"Oh, of course. And what did Erik and his friend talk about during tea?"

"Why, about you of course!"

She raised an eyebrow. 

"Hmm, is that so?"

"Yes, and he is coming to dinner next week."

"Next week, is he?" 

"You need not trouble yourself over it, my dear, Erik will make all the necessary preparations and cook for the evening," he gently ran a hand ever so lightly over her hair, so softly that he barely touched her. 

"I am quite looking forward to it," she smiled at him. 

He did indeed end up carrying her back to her bed, where he insisted she stay the rest of evening, even going so far as to bring the dinner he cooked into her on a tray. 

She wondered at whether or not anyone was actually going to show up next week, and if so what kind of person they'd be. But as the week went on she found she rather forgot about it - she simply had too much else to think about without wondering whether or not anyone was coming to dinner. There were librettos and scores to pick up from the Opera Populaire, and then they had to be studied and practiced - ever since moving to the new house, she had renegotiated her contract to allow her to continue with her career on the stage with the minimal amount of in-person rehearsals needed, so much of her singing practice took place at home. 

So it took her somewhat by surprise when Erik stormed into the sitting room and announced that his friend had suddenly had to cancel their dinner plans, interrupting her reading and pulling her from her thoughts. 

She blinked as he paced the floor, clearly upset over the news he had just delivered. She set the libretto aside, placing it on the table next to her glass of wine. 

"Oh, it's alright, Erik," her mind was still halfway somewhere else and not fully thinking over what she said. "I figured that would happen."

Erik paused in his pacing to turn and look at her. 

"Why would Christine think that?"

She cursed herself for her half-flippant answer. She certainly couldn't say _Because I thought you were making the whole thing up, dear,_ \- no, he would definitely not like that answer. 

She picked up the libretto again, fiddling with the pages, and shrugged. 

"Well, you know how it is, Erik - people get busy, things come up, plans get changed. You know," she gestured vaguely. 

He seemed to accept this. 

"He says he will come by for dinner on Saturday, instead," he informed her. "Erik will never forgive him if he cancels again."

She considered this carefully before replying. 

"Saturday is fine. Of course, he doesn't have to come to dinner, Erik," she reminded him gently. 

He narrowed his eyes. 

"You... do not wish him to come to dinner at all?"

"No! No, I didn't mean that. I just mean, I completely understand if he is busy again, or otherwise delayed, or simply not able to come at all. You don't need to bring him here to prove anything, you know."

Christine had a look on her face that was all too familiar- it seemed he had seen a similar look on the Daroga's face not too long ago when Erik was telling him about Christine. 

"Christine," he said evenly. "What exactly would I be 'proving' if I brought him here?"

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, searching for the right words. 

"It's- it's just a figure speech, I didn't mean anything specific by it..."

Erik was silent, staring at her blankly. He knew that sometimes - only very occasionally, mind you - he had a tendency to... overreact. Perhaps it was just his annoyance with the Daroga seeping over into his conversation with Christine - surely she didn't doubt the existence of his friend the same way that friend doubted her own existence? No, that couldn't be, Christine was above thinking things like that-

The silence seemed to stretch too long for Christine's liking, and she fumbled for words to fill it. 

"I mean of course it's nice to have friends for dinner, but life gets in the way of plans so often, it doesn't mean they're not your friend..."

She trailed off, feeling silly. 

Erik stared silently for a moment, tapping the tips of his fingers together. 

“You think the Daroga is not my friend?”

“N-no... That’s not what I said!”

“But it’s what you _implied_ ,” he said stubbornly. 

She gave a frustrated huff. 

“Erik, I don’t care one bit if he comes over for dinner or not, if you say the man is your friend then I believe you.”

But by now Erik was too wound up to accept any words that might defuse the situation. 

“Was there any question about whether or not you believed Erik had a friend?” his voice was petulant. 

“Well...” she hesitated. “I’m just surprised to hear about him, that’s all. You’ve often said you don’t have any friends, so I just assumed...”

Erik’s shoulders slumped. 

“Why must people always believe the worst of Erik?” he cried. “Why is it no one thinks that Erik has friends?”

Christine made no comment on how it was now suddenly ‘friends’ in the plural. She simply sighed and stood up, slowly going across to stand in front of him. 

“Does my own wife think me so repellent that she assumes I am unable to form so basic a connection with another human being?” he continued to cry as she approached him. “Do you really think that I-“

He broke off and watched her with confusion as she reached out and gently placed her hands on his arms before leaning against him. His hands flew up and hovered near her before finally going around her to enfold her into an embrace, and he sighed happily, forgetting that he was still mad at her. He was upset that she didn’t believe him, of course - but who was he to deny any affection she wished to show him? He held her tightly and closed his eyes. 

She smiled secretly - she had discovered the trick to stopping his fits of ill temper and petulance shortly after they had gotten married, and it had yet to fail her. 

They stood like that a while longer - Erik was most certainly not going to be the one to pull away first. He merely held her and swayed just a little, rocking them back and forth. Christine looked up at him. 

“When was the last time you had something to eat, Erik?”

He opened his eyes and thought about this. He caught her looking at him and he guiltily averted his gaze. 

“Christine is so sweet to her Erik, so kind to worry about when he eats,” he murmured instead of giving a real answer, rubbing a hand up and down her back. 

“Erik,” she chided gently. “You haven’t eaten all day, have you?”

She noticed his odd moods and lack of recent food often coincided. 

He didn’t answer, which she took as confirmation. 

“Why don’t you sit with me on the couch, love, and we’ll have a little snack? How does that sound?” she asked hopefully. 

He hesitated - he didn’t feel hungry (he never felt hungry, really) but sitting on the couch with her _did_ sound very nice. 

“Come now, sit right here,” she led him over to the couch, placing a hand on his shoulder and pressing gently until he sat. “Don’t move - I’ll be right back.”

She grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to his fingers, then quickly turned and left the room. 

He gasped as her lips had caressed his bony fingers, and he held that hand out in front of his face and stared at it with rapt wonder - every touch from Christine was a blessing, a miracle, and he would never cease to marvel over each one he received. 

He dropped his hand only when Christine entered the room again - his wonder-struck mind had barely registered that she’d left in the first place. He watched as she set a platter down on the table next to them, a platter filled with cut fruit and cubes of cured meat and cheeses, along with a pile of crackers. She had also brought napkins and a second glass of wine, which she pushed towards him. 

“But I am not hungry, my dear-“ he tried to protest. 

“Oh, you aren’t going to make me eat this entire plate of food all by myself, are you?” she pouted. “I already took it all out, it’s going to waste otherwise!”

She looked up at him with such pleading eyes. He reached out and grabbed a cracker which he promptly ate, and a grin formed on her face. She began to eat with him. 

They talked of her upcoming role in the latest opera and about the songs she was currently working on for a while until he suddenly remembered what they had been talking about just before she had hugged him. 

“The Daroga _will_ come over for dinner, you’ll see,” he said in a slightly worried voice. “Erik _does_ have a friend.”

Her face softened. She hoped he was correct - it was terribly sad to think otherwise. 

“Of course he’ll come over,” she tried to soothe his worries. “I’m sure he will.”

He looked at her with those sad eyes, all that was visible under his mask, but all that was needed to convey the anguish he felt. 

“I mean it Christine - Erik would never lie to you.”

She paused mid-bite and stared at him. 

He realized what he had said and began to wring his hands. 

“I- I mean, Erik would never lie to you _anymore_ -!”

“If you say so, Erik,” she finished chewing the cube of meat. 

“I do, I do!” he begged. “Erik has not lied to his Christine, not since-! And that is the truth! He hasn’t lied at all since he stopped being the angel, has he? Not- not recently, has he?”

She took a sip of wine and considered this. 

“I don’t know, Erik,” she said evenly. “Have you?”

His eyes widened and he made a noise halfway between a choke and a high pitched whine in his throat as he fell forward and wept into her lap, begging for her forgiveness with numerous entreaties, praising her saintly kindness, and swearing oaths that there would be no more lies. 

Distantly she wondered what he had lied about recently to put him into such a state. She merely sighed and reached down to stroke the hair of his wig and gently scratch his scalp - a sensation he had assured her he could still feel even through the wig - until he began to calm. 

“What are you going to cook when the Daroga comes over?” she asked. 

“Fish,” he said in a small voice, still not lifting his face from where it was buried in her skirts. “And pasta, with a cream sauce.”

“That sounds lovely,” she offered. 

He didn’t reply, only slowly sitting up and trying to sniff deeply. 

Her brow furrowed at the noise. 

“Do- do you need to take your mask off?” 

He nodded solemnly. 

She usually had no qualms about seeing his face, but this situation was a little different, and she knew he’d appreciate the privacy. She politely looked away as he turned from her and removed the mask, grabbing the napkin off the table and pressing it to the area on his face where a nose should have been. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend that she was not hearing the noises that she was most definitely hearing. She loved her husband dearly, but she did wish that he wasn’t so prone to episodes of weeping, if for no other reason than it tended to make his nose - or lack thereof - run, and when that happened it was not a pleasant experience for either of them. 

His task completed, he swiftly returned the mask and strategically folded the napkin before placing it on the table once more. Christine looked at him once more. 

“And speaking of dinner - what are we going to have tonight?” she asked lightly, as though the past few minutes hadn’t happened at all. 

“We can have anything you wish, my dear,” he replied, only a slight tremble left in his voice. 

“Can we have a cake for dessert, perhaps?” she tried. “Can I help you make it?”

“Of course,” he nodded. 

They were both quite glad to leave the earlier conversation at that.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the week went quite normally - practicing music together, a bit of gardening, errands here and there, and thankfully no weeping. Saturday rolled around and Erik was in quite a mood the entire day. Christine did not think he had sat down or been still once since he had awoken early that morning. 

He swept the floors in a frenzy, constantly checking each room to be certain nothing was out place. He looked so wound up that Christine took pity on him and insisted that he let her take over his current task of dusting, which he allowed her to do. She hoped that he would then take a moment to rest after all of his work, but she was disappointed to find that instead of resting, he had begun to wash all of the windows. 

When finally he ran out of household chores to do, he began to cook. Christine watched as he gathered ingredients and lined them up on the countertop, pulled knives from drawers and placed plates and bowls here and there so he could mix ingredients as he needed. 

“Would you like me to help you?” she offered. 

He shook his head. 

“No, my dear, I am quite fine, I assure you.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been going all day without taking a break,” she fretted. 

Erik stopped and stared at her. She was frowning, a look of concern marring her pretty face. He forgot, sometimes, with all of his concern over her own wellbeing and happiness, that she worried over him as well. She had told him on numerous occasions that _his_ health and happiness were vital to _her_ health and happiness (although he could scarcely believe such a thing could be true - still, it was more believable than his sweet Christine lying), had told him that she worried over him when he didn’t get enough rest or food (which was often - less often now that she was in his life, but still more often than she would like). 

“Oh, Christine,” he breathed. 

He walked around to the other side of the countertop and pulled her into a gentle hug, softly kissing the top of her head through the silk of his mask. 

“It’s alright, sweet. Erik promises - tomorrow he will do nothing but sit out on the porch with his feet up and watch the clouds go by, how does that sound?”

“Hmm... Will Erik let his wife bring him lemonade and cookies and sit beside him?” she asked as she snuggled against him. 

“That sounds like absolute perfection,” he said tenderly. 

But then the sweet moment ended as Erik unceremoniously (but still reluctantly) pushed her away. 

“Not now, though, Christine - I must finish dinner!” 

She raised an eyebrow and watched as he went about the kitchen in a blur of nerves and movement. Oftentimes she would help him to cook, but tonight seemed to be one of those nights he’d prefer to do everything herself, so after a few moments of being soundly ignored, she left the kitchen and went to go read a book in the library upstairs. 

 

Nadir looked at his pocket watch. He was rather early, so he took his time looking at all of the flowers that lined the pathway up to the door. He really hoped that Erik was not merely pulling one over on him - if this was truly where Erik lived, well, he was quite happy for him. It was a lovely house, and a vast improvement on the stuffy old cellars of the Opera Populaire. Finally he reached the door - still early. He shrugged to himself. It couldn’t be helped. He knocked, visions of Erik’s possible tricks on him playing in his mind. Perhaps some stranger would answer the door - perhaps Erik had sent him to some random house where he would have to explain what exactly he was doing on their doorstep, admiring their flowers and asking if dinner was ready yet and the inhabitants would assume him insane. 

There was a pause before the door slowly creaked open just a crack. A yellow eye peered out at him before the door was opened wider. 

“Daroga,” Erik said ominously.

“Hello, Erik,” Nadir greeted him. 

“Won’t you come in?” he asked solemnly, his demeanor more fit for a funeral than dinner with a friend. 

Nadir entered the house and breathed a silent sigh of relief at the realization that all of the decor and furniture seemed so normal - he had half feared that the walls inside would be painted black, or that Erik would have filled it with macabre decorations. He noted the very modest number of candles with satisfaction. 

Once he was actually inside the house, Erik began to fidget nervously. Nadir looked around before turning a questioning look to him. 

“My- my wife is here,” he said defensively. “She was here just a moment ago. I’m not sure where’s she gotten to now.”

He gave a strained little laugh before calling out for her. 

“Christine!” he called, wringing his hands. 

Nadir raised an eyebrow at the ensuing silence. 

“She exists, Daroga - she does!” he practically sobbed. 

Nadir sighed. Poor Erik. 

“She’s here somewhere, she just- CHRISTINE!” he turned and bellowed, anxiety causing a cold sweat to break out on his brow. Where was she?! 

Nadir opened his mouth to tell Erik it was alright, to try to placate him somehow about his clearly non-existent wife, when they heard the footsteps of someone running down the hallway. 

Christine had lost all track of time while reading, the library in the furthest upper corner of the house. Her heart sprang to her throat to hear Erik calling for her so desperately and she ran as fast as she could to see what the matter was. She was on the verge of asking if he’d set the kitchen on fire again when saw the guest standing in the entryway. 

“Oh!” she stopped short, her eyes wide - she had half expected dinner to only consist of herself and her husband, but here was the long-promised friend after all. 

Erik took a single step back, drawing himself up to his full height and, pointing a spindly finger at Christine, he gave Nadir the haughtiest look he could muster underneath of his mask. 

Christine’s brow furrowed a moment, unsure of why she was being pointed at, but she gave the Persian man a warm - if somewhat nervous - smile. 

“You must be the Daroga,” she gave a little curtsy. 

Nadir’s shoulders sagged. Heaven help him if _both_ of them insisted on calling him by his old title - and wouldn’t it be just like Erik to tell her that “daroga” was actually his name? 

“Please - please, call me Nadir,” he bowed to her. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Nadir,” she smiled, glancing at Erik who had crossed his arms and tilted his head back in a display of triumph. 

Nadir looked her up and down. She seemed normal enough, so far. She didn’t appear to be in any obvious distress, and seemed to have her wits about her. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Christine.”

“Won’t you come in and sit down? Dinner is very nearly ready, I believe,” she motioned for him to follow her as she started down the hallway to the kitchen. 

Erik placed a talon-like grip on the man’s shoulder and hissed, “ _I told you she was real_ ,” before releasing him to follow Christine. 

She found Erik had already set the table - indeed, Erik had already prepared everything, and all that was left to do was sit. 

Once they had settled around the table Christine poured a cup of tea for each of them. There was an air of awkwardness to everyone expect for Erik, who seemed quite pleased with himself. 

Nadir cleared his throat. 

“So, Christine...” he trailed off, uncertain of what to say, but Christine looked at him expectantly so he had to continue. “Erik has told me about you.”

She nodded and smiled. 

“I can’t help but wonder, how did you two meet?” he finally asked. 

Her smile faded and a strange look crossed her face for a brief moment. Erik’s shoulders stiffened and he looked at Christine with something close to guilt and remorse shining in those strange eyes of his. 

She giggled nervously and began to fidget with her silverware. 

“Oh- oh, that- it’s quite a long and... _complicated_ story, you see... We met... well, at the Opera Populaire, of course - and Erik, er, he... he gave me singing lessons, and- and I think that sums up pretty much all there is to tell, doesn’t it, dear?” she glanced anxiously at Erik. 

“Yes, entirely!” he nodded vigorously before taking a sip of tea. Christine’s gracious retelling of the story had mercifully glossed over Erik’s myriad questionable choices and actions, for which he was eternally grateful. The Daroga would never let him live it down if he found out that Erik had pretended to be an _angel_ , of all things - Erik shuddered just to think of the look on the man’s face when he found out. 

Christine looked back to Nadir, anxious to change to subject before he could pose any further questions about how they met or their early relationship. 

“How did you meet Erik?” she quickly turned the question back on him, her smile back in place. 

Erik choked on his tea. Nadir looked down at his own cup of tea, suddenly appearing to have lost his appetite. 

“Oh, that’s... quite a _complicated_ story, as well...” Nadir hesitated. 

Christine merely nodded. Erik was a complicated man, it only stood to reason that any story involving him would be complicated, too. 

Erik briefly considered taking another sip of tea and choking on it purposely this time - perhaps if he were busy choking to death Christine would be sufficiently distracted from hearing the Daroga’s tale of meeting Erik. 

But such a thing was not necessary - Nadir seemed just as intent on avoiding that particular piece of history as Erik was. 

Nadir looked up from his teacup with a wide smile that seemed just a little too stiff to actually indicate real joy. 

“Besides,” he grit out. “When you’ve been friends as long as we have, it almost seems as if we’ve always known each other. Who can even remember when or how it started?” 

Erik brought his hands down on the table a little harder than was strictly necessary and Christine jumped at the sudden noise. 

“Who is ready for food?” his tone bordered on a demand - he was already sick of hearing his friendship with the Daroga discussed. 

He didn’t wait for any sort of answer after his odd question, simply standing and turning to walk into the kitchen. Christine sprang up a moment after him. 

“Excuse me,” she glanced back at Nadir as she followed her husband into the kitchen. “We’ll be right back!”

Nadir stifled a sigh. He had been hoping to speak with her alone for a moment. 

Erik was secretly glad when he noticed that Christine had followed him. Who knows what nasty thing the Daroga might say to her about him when he was out of the room? Together they carried the food out to the table. 

Each one breathed a secret sigh of relief now that there was something other than their relationship to Erik to be discussed. But still-

“What a lovely fish!” Nadir exclaimed. “Ah, but Erik - I see you’ve set the table with only forks. Would you be so kind as to indulge my rather odd request for a spoon, perhaps?”

Erik stared at him, and Nadir managed to suppress the nervous fidget he felt rising in him - a feat only accomplished from long years of practice under those glaring yellow eyes. 

“Fish just _tastes_ better when eaten from a spoon,” he continued, and turned to Christine. “Wouldn’t you say too? Have you ever tried it?”

“Oh, I can’t say that I’ve tried that before, but I do imagine it would taste... different,” she offered politely. 

Erik narrowed his eyes at the Daroga. Food was food and it would taste the same no matter what utensil was used. What was he playing at? But still, it wouldn’t do to cause a scene so early in the evening - if he kicked the man out of the house before the food was even tasted, Christine would surely question whether or not the man was truly his friend if he couldn’t even stand to be around him for less than an hour. He sighed internally. Marriage and friendships were hard, but they were worth it, he supposed. Well - Christine was worth it, at least. 

They both watched as Erik stood up from the table and walked to the kitchen, nervously glancing behind him. 

As soon as he was gone, Nadir immediately leaned forward to Christine. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered urgently. “Do you want me to create a distraction so you can escape, mademoiselle?”

She arched an eyebrow and frowned deeply. 

“It’s _madame_ , and _no_ , that will most definitely not be necessary! How much is he paying you, anyway, to pretend you’re his friend?”

“Paying me?” he snorted. “Sometimes I wish he did pay me... But no, our acquaintanceship goes back a long time.”

“Well that’s terribly rude of you, then, to try to get me to _escape_ from him!”

“Forgive me, but, ah - I was under the impression that, ah... perhaps you were not here willingly,” Nadir shifted nervously. 

The conversation was cut short as Erik entered the room, placing the spoon down on the table in front of Nadir before sitting down once more. 

Christine reached a hand out to Erik’s wrist, squeezing it just a little. 

“Dearest, I’m so sorry, but could you please fetch me a glass of red wine? I know it doesn’t really go with this kind of fish, but I do so enjoy it anyway...”

Erik merely nodded, his eyes lingering on his wrist where she was touching him, and stood once more, this time walking to the wine cellar instead of the kitchen. 

With plenty of time now bought, Christine turned back to Nadir. 

“I assure you that I’m here of my own free will - there is no place I’d rather be, in fact. I know Erik can be very...” she hesitated, searching for the right words. “ _Erik_ , and I know that it might not make much sense to anyone else, but I do love him very much...”

Her cheeks colored but she continued. 

“He is so very dear to me, even if he is a bit much to deal with at times. I’m quite happy with my life here - with my life with _him_.”

“And you’re not just saying this because he made you?” Nadir felt terrible for having to ask, but he knew he’d feel even worse if he left that night with even the slightest doubt about whether or not Christine was truly being held prisoner. 

“Made me?” she wrinkled her nose. “I am quite certain that Erik can’t _make me_ do anything if I don’t want to - I’ve always been rather stubborn, I’m afraid.”

It was true, much to chagrin and dismay of all her teachers throughout her life - including Erik. The only thing that had kept Erik from frustratedly tearing out what few strands of hair he had left was the fact that Christine had trusted that he wouldn’t ask anything of her that wasn’t in the best interest of her career - although of course that didn’t mean that she didn’t still question him at times. 

“If anything, I’m the one who _makes_ him do things - though not on purpose, of course. He would do anything for me, I think,” she smiled a little wistfully. “He insisted that I chose the house we were to live in, he buys me anything I wish - and then some - and he never asks for anything in return. I mean, he is only human-“ she chuckled, a little nervously, knowing that Nadir did not have any background context for why she would find her husband’s humanity amusing. “-and of corse he has his _moments_ \- don’t we all? - but on the whole he cares for me so much, and he takes every opportunity to show me that. He-“

She heard footsteps approaching and quickly fell silent. Christine regretted that she didn’t have more time to continue their secret conversation. But she certainly couldn’t continue as they had been - _Oh, Erik, I was just telling your friend here about how good my life is with you and trying convince him that you didn’t kidnap me and aren’t holding me prisoner at all, because that’s what he thought was going on here!_ \- no, that certainly wouldn’t do. 

Erik uncorked the bottle and poured some into her glass as she smiled appreciatively at him. 

“Thank you, love,” she told him as he sat down. 

His face colored under his mask, although no one could tell. He shot a glance at the Daroga, hoping the man would notice how kind his Christine was, how easily the words of endearment rolled out from her. The Daroga might doubt Erik’s own opinion of Christine’s love for him, but surely he couldn’t hear those words from her lips and doubt them still. 

It helped to settle his own mind as well, as he had feared that perhaps in his absence the Daroga would say something terrible about him to his wife - but Christine seemed just as sweet to him as ever. Wouldn’t that be just like the Daroga, though? Erik had no idea where his friend got such awful ideas about him, but it would so be like him to tell poor Christine any horrible thing about her husband. The Daroga seemed to think that Erik lacked some sort of _moral compass_ or some other nonsense. The Daroga was a big ninny who hated fun, that’s what Erik thought. 

But it seemed he had worried for nothing. Christine didn’t seem unsettled, and the Daroga didn’t seem smug, so surely nothing terrible had been said. He relaxed just slightly. 

Nadir held up a spoonful of fish. 

“I must say, this is the most delightful meal I’ve had in ages - my compliments to the chef.”

He glanced between the two of them. Christine smiled again - Nadir noticed that she smiled quite a lot, it seemed - far more than he would have expected from anyone who had to live with Erik. 

“This meal was entirely Erik’s doing - he is so wonderful at cooking, isn’t he?”

Erik stared down at his plate, slightly embarrassed but hanging on his wife’s every kind word about him. 

“You know,” she continued sheepishly. “I never used to be very good at cooking, and it used to worry my Mamma Valerius - she’d fret over how I’d ever find a husband with cooking skills like mine!”

She smiled fondly at the memory. 

“But Erik didn’t care about that at all - some men might insist on their wife doing all the cooking, but Erik never saw a problem with cooking for the both us, and even taking the time to share recipes with me and help me improve my kitchen skills. In fact he’s never taken issue with helping me with any of the more domestic arts - and I think I’m quite lucky to have him.”

She was positively blushing at that point, but Erik didn’t even notice - he had taken to chopping up the fish on his plate into very small pieces with his fork to distract from the tears welling in his eyes. Christine - lucky to have _him_? He wanted to shout that no - no! - it was the other way around! _He_ was the lucky one to have _her_ by his side, so how could he not do whatever he could to lessen her burdens and make her life easier? He didn’t care if wasn’t what all the other men did, didn’t care even if was the _normal_ thing to do, he saw no reason he should refrain from cooking and cleaning simply because he now had a wife - especially since he had already been doing all of those tasks for himself for nearly his entire life. 

He shook his head in protest. 

“You are too hard on yourself, my dear - there was never anything wrong with your cooking!” 

“I think you are a bit biased, love,” she laughed lightly. 

“No,” he insisted quite seriously. “I am very impartial in all of my opinions, my judgement is very trustworthy, I am certain of it.”

Nadir couldn’t help but smile at their interactions throughout the night. Christine had been telling the truth, it seemed. She really did seem to love him, the way she’d laugh softly at his little jokes, how she looked at him with such shining eyes as though he were simply a normal man and not wearing a ridiculous mask (placing a hand in front of his mouth to hide any glimpse that could be caught as he took small bites from his fork) that was covering a hideous face. And Erik, in turn, seemed to hold such respect and reverence for her, the way he looked at her as though she were all that was good and pure in the world, how he seemed to anticipate what she would need or want next (whether it was the salt shaker or more wine or even the glass of water he quickly sprang up to get her when she coughed lightly). They were quite a pair, Nadir thought lightheartedly. He never would have guessed that such a charming woman would have fallen in love with Erik, and he had to admit he was also a little surprised that Erik seemed to be able to keep on his best behavior for so long. He realized that perhaps all (or at least some) of Erik’s disagreeable behavior that he was so familiar with was not merely an unavoidable part of who he was but rather something that Erik actually had control over if he wished - and his heavenly Christine certainly gave him reason to behave himself. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, Nadir mused. He couldn’t imagine her putting up with any of Erik’s fits or other nonsense for very long, and he could easily believe that Erik would do nearly anything to please her - even if it meant having to become a better version of himself. 

Christine was very curious as she watched Erik and Nadir interact. She had known Erik could be quite mercurial in his tempers and moods, but it was still a bit of a surprise for her to hear Nadir make a joke and just as she’d began to laugh at it Erik would stare at the man and ask “what the devil was that supposed to mean”, and the mood at table would become quite somber. Nadir seemed to take his moods in stride, however, and it calmed her nerves to see that. Despite all that, for the most part dinner seemed to go quite well, and Erik eventually became less prickly as the evening went on, listening to stories and replying now and then with comments. 

His good humor had its limit, however. He shifted uneasily in his chair. How long was the Daroga going to blather on for? They had finished their food nearly an hour ago! He had eaten, he had seen Erik’s wife and Erik’s house - what more point was there for him to be here? 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Erik blurted out, interrupting one of Nadir’s stories - he certainly wasn’t going to interrupt one of _Christine’s_ stories, and he had precious few stories of his own to tell. 

“Erik!” Christine was scandalized by his bad manners, but Nadir only laughed. 

Erik cringed under Christine’s reprimand, and shot a pained look at Nadir. 

“Why are you laughing at poor Erik?” he asked pitifully. “I was merely asking a question.”

Nadir tried his best to hide his continued laughter by pretending to cough into his napkin. 

“I mean, I really don’t have anywhere else I need to be - honestly, I could spend _hours_ here still.”

Erik’s eyes widened and he looked to Christine, dismayed. Would this troublesome man never leave? 

“What I mean to say is, I _could_ spend hours more here, because this home is just so lovely, but actually I should be on my way soon,” Nadir relented, amused at his old friend’s reaction. 

Christine smiled kindly. 

“I do apologize for Erik, I think he’s merely tired, you know - he’s had quite a long day. He was up so early this morning, I think he was too excited about this dinner to sleep very much at all!”

Erik sunk down a little in his chair. 

“Erik doesn’t apologize for Erik,” he muttered under his breath. 

Nadir pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time. 

“Yes, it is getting rather late, I do suppose. Time flies when you’re having fun, as they say.”

Erik straightened up. 

“And it’s going to be a busy day tomorrow, too,” he said suddenly. “I have quite a lot of things planned, Erik barely has a break from it all for the whole day.”

The words were out before he could stop them. He dropped his gaze to the table, now unable to even look in Christine’s direction. He had promised her so fervently, sworn it with such passion - _no more lies_ \- yet here he was, a miserable rat, a disgusting dog, telling horrible lies in her presence once again. His hands trembled and he began to wring his napkin between them with great anxiety. He truly had intended his last lie - “ _Of course I ate dinner last night, Christine, I simply had it after you had already gone to bed!_ ” - to be, well, his _last_. But then the Daroga was here, and then the Daroga was _still_ here, and the Daroga _wouldn’t leave_ , and well - he had to say _something_ , didn’t he? It was the Daroga’s fault entirely, he was certain of it. But the fact remained that he lied, and that meant his promise was also a lie, which meant he had lied to her _twice_ and the very thought made him feel lightheaded. But perhaps- perhaps he hadn’t truly lied - after all, he had promised Christine that he wouldn’t lie, and wasn’t it implied that that meant no more lies _to_ Christine? He hadn’t lied to her, he had only lied to the Daroga, and surely that didn’t count, did it? No, he hadn’t broken his promise at all. He smoothed the napkin out across his lap once more and breathed a sigh of relief. 

His mind calmed once more, he turned his attention back to what was going on around him - Christine and the Daroga were talking about the garden she and Erik were cultivating. Erik huffed. This day seemed to never end! Why couldn’t they just go sleep finally and have it be tomorrow already? Why couldn’t it be time for cookies and lemonade with his wife yet? Why was the Daroga still here? 

To his relief, however, Nadir stood up and they continued their conversation as they slowly left the dining room and made their way towards the front door. 

“Did you see the round yellow flowers over by the edge of the fountain? Erik got them for me as surprise for my birthday - and what a surprise! I hadn’t seen those kind of flowers since I was a little girl in Sweden. But he had them ordered and shipped here just for me, it was so sweet of him. They’ve thrived wonderfully, too - I wouldn’t have expected them to, but they really have.”

“I shall have to take a closer look at them the next time I come,” he paused. “Oh- I do believe I’ve forgotten my handkerchief at the dinner table - Erik, would you mind terribly...?”

Erik hurried to fetch the handkerchief - anything to get the man on his way as soon as possible. 

With Erik out of the way, Nadir turned to Christine once more. 

“There’s one thing that interests me, if you don’t mind my saying so, but - you truly seem to love him, and yet even still you couldn’t seem to find it likely that he actually had a friend. Your first thought was that he was paying me to pretend,” Nadir mused. 

Christine looked off into the distance, staring at nothing for a second. 

“I do love him, monsieur, but I am not stupid,” she turned a critical eye to him. “Besides, you’ve know him for far longer than I and you thought he _kidnapped me_.”

Nadir chuckled. 

“Perhaps we think these things about him because we know him so well.”

A smile quirked at her lips. 

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “But I am glad that he does have a friend.”

“And I am glad that his wife is such a charming and delightful - and strong willed - woman such as yourself.”

Erik returned with the handkerchief, which he shoved into Nadir’s hand before placing his own hands on the man’s shoulders and trying to steer him towards the door. 

Once out on the porch, Nadir turned to bid the couple farewell. 

“It was a throughly enjoyable evening,” he gave a little bow. “My deepest thanks for inviting me. And my belated congratulations on your wedding, as well.”

“We simply must have you again sometime, Nadir. It was so lovely to talk with you,” Christine smiled. 

“Erik would be... not unpleased, if the Daroga wished to come by again,” he paused before adding- “As long as he gives plenty of advance warning, that is.”

With their goodbyes said and the door closed and locked, Erik stood by the thin window on the side of the door and peered out from behind the little curtain, narrowing his eyes at the receding figure on the walkway, watching to make certain he had actually left and wasn’t snooping around the outside of Erik’s home.

Satisfied that he had really left, he let the curtain fall back in place with a sigh. He was used to talking with Christine, and he was used to talking with the Daroga, but having both of them in the same room had been a tad bit... overwhelming at times. He wasn’t used to such crowds, and was pleased that it was simply him and Christine once more. He had enjoyed the night, however - proving that he had both a friend _and_ a wife had been exhilarating. 

He found he was alone in the entryway, and went back to the dining room where he found Christine gathering the plates and silverware to take to the kitchen. 

“I can do that for you, Christine,” he offered eagerly. 

“No, no - I insist. It’s my way of saying thank you for such a good dinner,” she turned on the tap and filled the sink with water. 

He hovered about for a few moments, wondering if perhaps she’d change her mind after all, but she continued to wash each dish before drying it and stacking it. He moved to stand behind her, letting his arms slip around her waist in a hug and resting his head on her shoulder. She made a contented noise as he did so. 

“Would you like jam tart cookies tomorrow, Erik? I do know you’re quite fond of those.”

“I’m quite fond of anything you make, my dear,” he told her. 

She simply smiled as she kept working on the dishes, making plans for what she would bake in the morning, and leaning back against him just a little. She thought back on Nadir’s questions to her, and her own answers, and she felt once again the truth of it all - there really was no other place she’d rather be at that moment - out in the countryside, in the quaint kitchen of her lovely home, and in her husband’s tender embrace.


End file.
